


Potions and Demons

by Frostii1031



Category: Gravity Falls, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, Human Bill Cipher, Kid Bill Cipher, Lonely Dipper Pines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8204245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frostii1031/pseuds/Frostii1031
Summary: Set after the finale.After Weirdmageddon, Dipper never expected to see Bill Cipher again. He's gone, adrift in between dimensions. Or at least he's supposed to be. But then, who's this kid at Hogwarts with only one eye and a familiar laugh?





	1. Chapter 1

“Stop being sad, Mabel, its distracting me.” Dipper said, accusingly. His sister sighed, turning away from the fast-moving train’s window to look at her twin. His face was buried in a leather bound book, his brown hair in complete disarray.  
“Sorry brobro. It’s just,” reaching over, Mabel attempted to calm the mess atop Dipper’s head, “after everything we saw this summer, Hogwarts is gonna be so boring! I already miss Grunkle Stan’s cons, not to mention poor Waddles, all alone…” Dipper groaned, they have had this conversation more times in the past week than he could count, it’s gotten quite old. He tried to muster up an encouraging smile, “I know Mabel, but there’s nothing we can do! We have to go to school.” Mabel pouted and turned back to the window, watching the scenery pass them by with her arms crossed in front of her.

It’s their third year at Hogwarts, and even though they are Americans, their parents’ influential position in the British wizarding world allowed them to attend the finest school in the world, wether they wanted to or not. Dipper, unsurprisingly, is a Ravenclaw, and Mabel a Gryffindor. After purchasing a few snacks, the rest of the trip passed by without much happening with Mabel talking to their classmates and Dipper catching up on the summer reading that he was unable to do at Gravity Falls. When they finally arrived at Hogwarts they made their way to the Great Hall for the opening speech. Having heard it all before, Dipper let his attention slip. Eventually the first years started getting called up.

“Cipher, William.” McGonagall called out, her voice sending a sliver of dread down Dipper’s spine. His head snapped up, instantly making eye contact with his sister across the hall. Her eyes were wide, and he slowly broke the contact to drag his gaze to the front of the hall. Making his way to the rickety stool was a small boy with hair so yellow it appeared golden. He was short, even for a first year, and from what Dipper could see, he was a bit too skinny to be considered healthy. As he sat on the stool, Dipper caught a glimpse of one singular golden eye, the other covered in a black eyepatch. Then the old hat slipped over the front of his face, disrupting Dipper’s assessment of the boy.

“Oh! You’re quite a strange one, aren’t you?” The hat murmured, interested, before quieting down to take a closer look. Dipper fidgeted nervously, his thoughts scrambling. Distantly he registered his sister frantically trying to make eye contact, but he was too distracted. Bill couldn’t be back! He got erased, didn’t he?

“Yes, yes! It obviously must be- “the hat cut off abruptly, a shocked look passing its face before it started again. “Well, I guess it’s not too far off…” It grumbled.

“Hufflepuff!” With a smile, the tan boy slid off his seat and handed the shaggy hat back to the professor. Applause filled the hall and the boy bounced over to the Hufflepuff table, a grin stretched wide across his lips. Dipper’s brow creased, Hufflepuff? That doesn’t make any sense, Bill Cipher could never belong to that house. He’s too dark, too manipulative. If anything he would belong to Slytherin, a house with a name as stained as his. Maybe it really wasn’t him…

Deciding to keep an eye on the suspicious boy, Dipper began to eat along with the rest of the school. After being guided to the Ravenclaw common room, Dipper lay in his bed, worry and paranoia keeping him awake. Rolling over, he did his best to banish the thoughts from his mind and get to sleep. It took a while.

 

The next day passed quickly, Dipper didn’t see the golden haired boy at breakfast or lunch and he took that time to converse with his sister.

“If it is him, what could he possibly be doing here? He’s supposed to be erased! And before that he couldn’t even get out of Gravity Falls, never mind half way across the world!” Mabel whispered, her hands moving erratically. Dipper groaned, his hands coming up to run through his messy hair. “I don’t know! Maybe the gun didn’t work like it was supposed to...”

After lunch, Dipper made his way to potions, his least favorite class. Nerves twisted his gut, he hated the professor with all his being. Entering the room, he sighed and made his way to the back of the Ravenclaw side. Watching the other classmates mingle around, he resided himself to another year of misery and bullying from the slimy snake. Speaking of, the man slid into the room, brushing his inky black hair to the side and clearing his throat he announced, “To my surprise, we actually have a student in this school capable of simple tasks. Mr. Cipher, a first year Hufflepuff of all things, is to be joining this class in the future.” He glanced behind him, his gaze turning a tad softer as he pushed the previously hidden small boy forward. “I expect nothing but the best from you, Cipher. Now get, I have a class to run.”

Cipher stood there for a second before he grinned impishly, “Of course, sir!” he saluted and made his way down the room, looking for a seat. Dipper gulped, the only open seat was the one next to him, being the class freak and all. Cipher bounced towards him, his single eye shinning and sat down.

“Hiya! Bill Cipher’s my name, what’s yours?” Dipper gulped, eyeing him critically before whispering, “Dipper. Dipper Pines.” The boy hummed, his short legs swinging a foot above the ground wildly.

“Interesting name.” He giggled and turned back around, seemingly done with the conversation. Dipper blinked, that’s it? No taunting, no bragging? Slowly, Dipper faced front as well, watching the boy from the corner of his eyes. He had shinny gold hair and dark tan skin. The left side of his face faced him, showing off the odd black eye patch with a creepily drawn eye on it sticking out in white marker. His features were attractive, for an eleven-year-old, anyways.

“Hey, Dipstick!” Dipper flinched, dragged out of his musings by said eleven-year-old waving a hand obnoxiously in front of his face.

“Don’t call me that.” He muttered angrily. The boy rolled his eyes, “Next time you should try paying attention, then. I’ve already gotten all of our supplies and everything.” Glancing at the table top in front of him, Dipper was surprised to find it true. Blushing red, Dipper stuttered, “O-oh, sorry. What are we making?”

“Just a simple sleeping drought,” The kid replied, facing away from him to shuffle through the supplies. As class went on, Dipper was grimly reminded at just how terrible he was in this class as Cipher excelled. For every mistake Dipper made, Cipher had some mysterious solution to balance everything out.

“Very good, Cipher. Five points to Hufflepuff for quick thinking and ingenuity. Ten points from Ravenclaw for not coordinating with your partner, Mr. Pines.” Dipper’s face became beet red, he hadn’t even noticed Snape behind him, and sunk down in his seat as his other housemates sent angry glares over at him.

“Thank you, sir! I really enjoy this class; you are a great teacher!” Cipher praised, sending a joyous smile up at the Slytherin head of house. Snape blinked in surprise, his lips twitching in a way too similar to a smile for Dipper to be comfortable with before he spoke again.

“Come see me after class, Cipher. I think I may have something enjoyable for you to do.” With one last glance, the man slipped away, off to torment some other poor soul. Dipper stood there, astonished. “How did you do that!”  
Cipher tilted his head, a mischievous smile tinting his lips. “Do what?” He asked innocently.

“Snape never gives anyone not in Slytherin house points! How did you get him to like you so much?”

Cipher snorted, shaking his head he said, “It’s not some big conspiracy, Dip. All ya gotta do is be nice to the poor guy. He’s lonely.” What.

“Lonely? He’s a grade A jerk!” A weird look crossed over Cipher’s face and he turned away. “Even jerks get lonely, Pines.” Feeling awkward, Dipper rubbed the back of his head, “I guess…”

The rest of the class passed without incident, and when Snape called to collect the vials, Dipper and Cipher had managed to do the best. Holding their potion delicately, Snape hummed. “Not bad,” he sniffed. Glancing down, he looked at Dipper and scowled.

“Try to do better in the future, Pines. I will not have you drag Cipher down.” Blushing, Dipper just nodded while Cipher seemed to glow with the praise. “Well? What are you still doing here? Leave.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur and before he knew it, Dipper found himself glancing at the Hufflepuff table in search for a certain golden haired boy. Not seeing him, he turned his attention back to his food in confusion, did Cipher ever eat? He glanced over to his sister’s table, hoping to tell her of the day’s potion events when he saw her laughing loudly with her friends. Sighing, he stood from the Ravenclaw table and made towards the doors, feeling tired and alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you've all gotten a taste as to what the story is going to be about, it's time to take a step back to see how it got there. The next few chapters will be in Bill's pov, and will give a little background on the situation.  
> Anyways, I have a few chapters already written out so I will most definitely be quicker in the future with new content :)  
> Hope you enjoy!

When you have been alive for an indescribable amount of time, an unimaginable amount of time, you get used to boredom. As an entity with no true sense of being and a lacking in the three-dimensional department, you get used to making due in terms of entertainment. You create, you plan, you watch. In this place, this awful place, there was none of that to be done. In the place he was currently being held, (is it truly a place? There is no ‘here’ or ‘there’, no ‘is’ or ‘will be’, just void) there was no sense of magic passing him by, nothing familiar to set him at ease inside his own mind. There weren’t even colors, in the normal sense no white or black even. There was just- emptiness. A feeling of hollowness that, even though he currently lacked a physical form, shook him to his core.

He hasn’t the faintest idea how long he had been like this, exactly. One second there was plain, searing agony (and not the funny kind. More like the life-threatening-ohgodimgoingtodie-kind that he had never expected to feel.) and then there just wasn’t. There wasn’t anything. Is he alive? Has he ever been truly alive? He had had no heart, no circulatory or nervous system. He didn’t breathe and he didn’t sleep. But he grew, and he learned and he made an impact. What qualifies as life anyways when there are things like him? It’s not as if it matters anymore, being here. With no sense of being, how could he possibly be alive?

Depressing thoughts, yes. But with absolutely nothing else to stimulate him, what more could be expected, honestly. In all his years of existence, he has never missed his horrible, stagnant, two-dimensional plane more. It makes him sick.  
After a while, (seconds?days?months?years?) a burning erupted in him. A blinding, scorching, white that took over him, dragged him from this place of nothingness and clawed at his proverbial insides. A wave of dizziness passed over him, nausea bubbling in his throat. Throat? With a snap, his eye opened and he bounded forwards. Blood rushed to his head, sending black dots throughout his vision but he didn’t care. Around him was a bedroom, average and messy, filled to the brim with books and posters of astronomy, small replicas of the planets hanging over head and fairy lights pinned to the walls. A bedroom that he had never seen before but in his vision all the same.

Looking down, he registered dimly that he was in his human form, a small weak thing that he usually never bothered with. Rising to his feet, he pulled away the soft blue blankets and staggered over to the window, he tripped a few times, his knees weak and unused to being moved after so long in the blank space. Tearing away the curtains, he looked outside to the dull gray skies of London, dark and quiet in the light of the moon. Blinking rapidly, he stumbled backwards, what happened? How did he manage to get out of Gravity Falls, out of that stupid bubble, and into London of all places? Falling onto the ground, he laid his head on the floor and brought his hands in front of his face. Lit by the glowing constellations on the ceiling, he could make out the finer details; the shaking of his fingers, the warm tan of his skin.

A knocking on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Snapping his eye to the door, he had a brief moment of panic. Just who would he be facing on the other side? Who was powerful enough to bring him back to this world? Slowly, the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair and a kind face. Smiling gently, she knelt on the floor next to him and leaned forwards, taking his head in her lap. He stiffened, who did this lady think she was?

“What on Earth are you doing on the floor, child? Did you have another nightmare?” Receiving only silence as her answer, the woman hummed and stroked his hair. “There’s no reason to be ashamed, we all get them,” she smiled. “In fact, I believe that they are what makes us human.” She looked into his eyes, and shocked as he was, he didn’t pull away. Her eyes were warm, a tone of brown that suited her tan skin, and made her look soft. Human? How ironic. Still, as wrong as this woman was, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was she the one to bring him back? That… didn’t seem possible. She had no magical energy.

Taking a deep breath, he raised into a sitting position. The woman let him, placing her hands in her lap and looking at him with a patient expression. It made his teeth grind. “Where am I?”  
Concern knit her brow, and she leaned forwards once more, forcing him to lean back. “What do you mean? Did you forget?” She bit her lip, “Well, you’re at home, of course. Right here in London. It’s just you and me tonight, your father is still at work.” Father? Does this woman honestly believe herself?

Frustration at not being able to discern the situation bit at him, and he curled his hand into a fist.

“…Yes. I remember. Can you leave now? I want to sleep,” he snapped. The woman hesitated, but she shrugged and seemed to think nothing of the odd behavior. Smiling, she placed a kiss on his forehead and rose to her feet. He felt his shoulders stiffen, his breath catch as he leered in response. When was the last time he had been shown true affection like that? Possibly never. Keeping his head down, he heard her open the door and whisper out to him, “Good night, Bill.”

Bill. She knew his name, who he is. What excuse then, did she have to be so nice? This woman must be playing an act. Jumping to his feet and rubbing his forehead, he ran to the door connected to the bedroom. Opening it, he stepped inside to a small bathroom. He walked up to the mirror and gazed at his human form. Or well, a version of it.

He was smaller than he was used to, barely reaching five feet and skinny as a rail. His face was sunken, nothing like that of the woman’s, and his skin was darker. His hair was a dusty golden blond, curly and reaching just below his ears. The only thing that was similar to his older persona was his eyes. Or, eye as it is. A deep gold and brown, it suited him. His other eye, however, was a bit off, in that it simply wasn’t there. A deep hole laid where his left eye should have been, dark and hollow.

Suddenly, he wanted desperately to be rid of this form. It was weak and small and it suffocated him. Thinking of his triangular form, he closed his eye and waited for that sense of empowerment to wash over him as he focused his magic onto making him be. And waited, and waited. With a growl, he snapped his eye open and held out a small hand, envisioning that beautiful blue flame sparking at his fingertips, but nothing happened. Slowly, dread filled his chest. His breath coming quicker, he shook his hand and tried again. He must be doing something wrong, he’s never not had his magic. It’s always been there, always ready to be used!

But nothing happened.

He couldn’t breathe, his legs were shaking. What is this? Why does he feel this way? Backing up, he felt his back hit the wall and slid down to the tiled floor. Keeping his hand out in front of him, he desperately tried again. When it didn’t work, he felt his eye start to burn. What was happening to him? He rubbed his eye to rid himself of the prickling, but when he pulled away his hand came back wet. Tears. He was crying. Suddenly, it was as if someone had pulled the floor out from under him. He couldn’t do this, he wanted his magic back. He needed it back.

So he’ll take it.

Gritting his teeth, he stood up shakily, and leaned against the sink so that he was looking straight into his golden eye. Closing it, he focused and tried to envision his magic in its purest form, that small ball of fire within him. He stood there for a long time, breathing deep and slow. Finally finding it, he gripped on tight and pulled, wrenched it out of him and into the physical world. Quickly, the air went from peaceful and cool, to still and stifling. His eye snapping open, he watched as his body became engulfed in blue flames, reaching up the walls and across the floor. It went out the window and beneath the door into the bedroom next-door. Distantly, he heard a passerby scream outside, but he didn’t care.

He hurt.

The pain was excruciating, coming from deep in his chest and spreading to his fingers, to his eye, to his mind. He was burning but not from the fire. His head felt like someone had gripped both sides and began stretching him, pulling him away from himself. Pins and needles crawled up his arms, making it impossible for him to keep them up, and his hands dropped to his sides still emitting the magic he had tried so desperately to recover. At this rate, he was going to run out of it, it was pouring so forcefully and quickly out of him. His vision went white and a sudden sharp pain in his temples made him double over, desperately trying to keep himself together.

Wave after wave of pain washed over him, until finally it stopped. As if blown out by a passing breeze, his flames flickered out, leaving the bathroom burnt and singed, him on the floor and hunched in agony. His body trembled, rearing from the shock of his own magic going against him. His head pounded and his stomach rolled. As quickly as he could, he crawled to the toilet, emptying his already empty stomach. Worryingly, all that came up was blood, staining his lips and coating his hands. This had never happened before.

Scrambling for purchase on the wall behind him, he didn’t notice the streaks of blood he left behind as he pulled himself to his feet. In the mirror, a pale face stared back at him, eye sunken and glazed, skin shallow and pale. His fingertips were burnt and his hair was singed. There was blood on his teeth as his lips stretched into a smile, heavy and deformed. He wasn’t happy, oh anything but. But he certainly wasn’t bored anymore.

Bill Cipher is back, blood on his lips and a glint in his eye.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long one to make up for the long absence aaa

Sleep had taken him unawares, and when he woke, it was to the woman’s cry of distress. His eye peeled open slowly, the sun shining through the window entirely too bright for his pounding head. Blearily, he sat up from his position on the carpeted floor by the bathroom door. Apparently, he had been too exhausted to make it to the bed last night. The woman was standing in front of him, one hand still on the door handle as she gaped at the boy.

“Bill! Oh, Bill, what happened?” She rushed towards him and he flinched back, he didn’t want her touching him again. Her fingertips dripped poisonous lies, her touches gentle and wrong. He is not meant to be touched, he does not like it. She hesitated before kneeling beside him. Slowly, she asked, “Who did this to you?” Tears welled in her eyes, and the demon felt something settle in his stomach, heavy and reluctant to tell her that the damage was his fault. He glanced away, towards the bathroom and her stare followed. She gasped, and looking at her, it seemed as if she hadn’t even noticed the scorch marks making their way outwards from the small room.

“I told you that there a reason as to why I came.” Bill’s gaze jerked to the doorway. A tall dark figure stood accompanied by another man, kinder-looking and worried, wringing his hands in front of him as they took in the chaos of the room. Nodding his head to the boy on the floor, the figure continued, “This would be it.”

The second man stepped forward angrily, “Are you insinuating that my son, an eleven-year-old, is a pyromaniac!? He’s just a child, obviously, som- obviously, someone broke in during the night!” He stuttered. His “father” then, Bill noted absently.  
Sighing, the other man rebutted, “Without you or he noticing? No. Were you not listening to me at all earlier? I am saying that he is a wizard,”

“Wizards don’t exist.”

“And yet here we are,” Deciding that this would be a good time to chime in, Bill said, “It hurt me. It’s never done that before.”

The man looked down at him, and it would be intimidating had Bill not been able to see the interest in his dark eyes. “You have practiced this before, then?”

Bill shrugged vaguely, “Was I not supposed to?” The woman moaned despairingly and tugged him closer to her. He wrinkled his nose, but kept quiet.

“Well, no. Usually wizards are not legally allowed to practice magic outside of school until they are eighteen years old. However, seeing as you are muggle-born and obviously had not known, I believe an acceptation can be made.” His eyes skittered over his face and hands, and Bill realized why the woman had looked so worried earlier, he was still covered in dried coppery blood.

“I have never seen a reaction quite like this for one with no previous knowledge. Just what were you trying to do?” He asked.

Not having an answer that wouldn’t make him seem suspicious or insane, Bill decided that evasion was the best way to go. “Well, that depends. What do you think I was trying to do? It’s not like I would know what to call it anyways, being a muggle and all. What even is a muggle? And what do you mean ‘school’? Is there some place I can go to learn this stuff?” The man rolled his eyes and Bill smirked discreetly, if there was anything he knew how to do, it was distracting people.

“This ‘stuff’ is called magic. And yes, you can. In fact, that is why I am here. On behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I invite you.”

“Hogwarts?” Bill snorted, “that sounds like a disease!”

“No! No no no. No son of mine is going with some strange, oily man in a cloak to some imaginary cult school!” His ‘father’ yelled. The wizard man looked unimpressed, and Bill sighed. He looked up at the woman, who was biting her lip in thought. He tugged her sleeve, and when she looked down at him, she sighed.

“Adam, dear. I think he should go.”

“What? No, this is crazy, you can’t possibly mean that.”

“If it will help him so that this- “She gestured to the room, then to his bloodied face, “never happens again, I think it would be for the best. Don’t you?” The man, Adam, looked to him, taking in his rusted lips, the anticipation and excitement in his single eye. The man sighed, and Bill knew that he had gotten his way.

 

As the two muggles nagged the poor wizard in the kitchen, (“And I better not hear any complaints on bullying!” “His eye, you know? He needs special- ““He gets nightmares, sometimes, is that going- “) Bill took the time to freshen up. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the main one, not his burnt one upstairs, Bill wet the face cloth. He wiped away the dried stains, and they peeled away in flakes. Sighing, he tried to think back to the last time his own body had bled. Possessing people like he had done to the Pines boy and making them hurt is not the same as doing it to himself. Brow furrowed, he found that he couldn’t remember. Actually, he couldn’t remember a lot of things he knew he should.

Great, another thing to add to the list of Very Bad Things. Or maybe he was just getting old. Honestly, he didn’t know which one he preferred.

He was about to leave the room, but he caught a glimpse of black on the counter top. He picked it up, and rolled it around in his hand. It was an eye patch. He hummed, and reached around to tie it around his head. Deciding that he looked significantly less dead, he left the bathroom.

Upon exiting, however, he was met with the oily wizard. The man looked him over, before saying, “Your parents have agreed to your coming to school. I will be back in two weeks’ time to escort you to Diagon Alley, where you may buy your school supplies.”  
“And until then?” Bill huffed, arms crossed, “You’re just gonna leave me here? What if my magic explodes again?” The man rolled his eyes, “With what happened last night, I doubt you will have enough energy to even make sparks for quite a while.” He’s right, Bill recognized resignedly. He felt drained and exhausted, the magic in him depleted with a sore emptiness in its place. The man pushed by him to get to the exit, but Bill called out, “Wait! I should at least know your name, right?”

Without looking back, he called, “Call me Professor Snape.”

 

The next two weeks passed slowly. Agonizing as the time was, he did discover a few things about this ‘family’ of his, all things that lead straight to more questions. The woman is called Brigit, the man Adam. They and their parents were born here in London but their grandparents on both sides originate from Egypt. A fascinating place, from what Bill remembers of his early days. Interestingly enough, their last names are Cipher, and they have photos of him hanging from their walls.

He’s been trying to figure out just what brought him here to this family, how they know him and how they have his name. Concernedly, he has not yet been able to figure that out. Thankfully, he’s not bored anymore. His fake family keeps him busy with small chores and tasks around the house while his useless magic regenerates. Slowly, bit by bit he could feel the cool, heavy sensation of his magic returning to his body. The empty pit in his stomach fading away even though he still fails to grasp his own spells in his fingertips. It’s frustrating because he could feel it. He can feel the spells and the charms and the curses whispering underneath his skin but for all he’s worth he could not manage to grasp them, to drag them to the surface and force them into being.

But its whatever, he decides. He’s Bill Cipher, and magic doesn’t make him. So he spent his remaining week reading, and watching, and listening. He’s good at that, taking in what’s around him and making something of it, storing it inside his head and waiting for the moments they become useful. He learns a lot about many things, not just his hosts, in that week. There’s only so much of wizarding Europe you could learn from a muggle American town, after all, so he takes advantage of the time he has to prepare himself. He’s going to try again, Bill decides. He’s going to take this universe, just as he intended, but he’s gonna mix it up, this time. No mistakes. No Pines kids getting in the way and no mercy. He’ll go to Hogwarts, and become the star student, the golden boy. He’ll wrap everyone around his pinkie finger and he’ll burn them to the ground. He knows the wizards just got over quite the war, and they’re in dire need of a hero, a leader. He’ll become their savior and he’ll take their trust and feed it the dogs. He’ll take their sad little Voldemort and do it right, do it better.

When the two weeks finally pass, and he’s looking up to the same oily man as before, he’s much more confident in his situation, taking pride in his ability to fake it till he makes it. Bill thinks Snape could see the change, the teeth in his greeting smile, the glint in his eye and the tilt of his head painting himself as one with a goal.

“Mr.Cipher.” He nods.

“Professor Snape.” Bill couldn’t help it, he smiled, his mouth stretching around his teeth and morphing his face gruesomely. He always did love to have a plan. Snape pauses, eyebrows scrunching and mouth twisting. Eventually his frown grew exaggeratedly into a sneer and he snapped, “Well? I don’t have all day.”

“Of course, Sir. Just waiting on you, Sir.” Golden boy he intends to become, but everyone’s got their faults. His happens to be his unbridled need for snark and unavoidable desire for chaos and emotional destruction. Snape rolled his eyes with a “tch” and held out his arm.

Unaccustomed to the man’s odd form of magic as he is, Bill was a bit unprepared for the tugging at his belly and the sudden jump in space. He landed smoothly, but the magic around him seemed unsettled, showering sparks and making a fizzled, sad whine as it dropped them off in the middle of a busy street. The man’s magic felt off, a depressingly distorted and weaker version of the magic Bill had surrounded himself with in Gravity Falls. Snape looked confused, obviously that wasn’t supposed to happen, and looked at him accusingly.

“What did you do?” He snapped.

Bill shrugged and fought off a smile, not his fault if the wizard man’s magic didn’t agree with his. With Bill’s lack of answer, Snape growled and turned, walking briskly down the street. The man was tall, with long legs and a longer stride and Bill had trouble keeping up in the midst of the dozens of wizards scurrying around them.

Not one to be a pleasant charge, Bill decided not to follow the man. If Snape didn’t want to guide him around, Bill wouldn’t make him. Turning around and cheerfully skipping in the other direction, Bill thought that if anything, Snape should be thankful with him out of his oily hair.

Looking around, the small boy took in his surroundings. Wizards sure did like to have variety in their colors, he thought. Nothing matched, not the clothes or even the buildings. Everything mixed in a gross combination of bright greens and pinks and yellows and blues, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. As a being with a strict black and gold color scheme, he did not approve one bit. Choking back the need to simply change the colors with his currently unaccesable magic, he hurriedly entered the nearest shop.  
As it turned out, the building was a pet shop, and the screeches of the owls and the howling of the cats rang unpleasantly in his ears. His face twisted but he stepped inside anyways. Wizards had pets, yes? Wouldn’t want to stick out, then.

A round old man with more beard than body wobbled his way over, a kind smile on his face. “Why good mornin’, young man! Interested ‘n a pet are ye? Where are ye parents? Do ya need help? I’ve got a whole buncha-“

“No.” The man stopped, mouth hung open as Bill continued on down the shop. He walked away, muttering about “today’s youth” as Bill looked through the aisles. He didn’t much like animals, but decided an owl would be convenient and relatively easy to care for. Running his fingers through the bars of the cages, he looked over the collection of birds. There was quite the variety, but none really seemed too promising, either too loud or too active or too mean looking. He wanted one that was average and ordinary. Easy.

A rather undignified squawk screeched out of the cage he had just passed. Bill paused and looked over. A puffy old owl stood in the middle of its cage, wings flared and eyes golden. Bill tilted his head. If nothing else, the owl matched his color scheme and seemed to have a sense of pride, which is more than he could say for the rest of the mangy animals.

Deciding that that was going to be the best he’s going to see, he shrugged and wrapped his fingers around the handle of the cage. Lifting it was a bit of a challenge, he was rather short and the cage was rather high, but he managed and swiftly brought the bird to the front desk. The old man from before raised a brow and looked over the pair.

“Spectacled owl, huh? It’s gonna cost ya. Got the money?”

Bill rolled his eyes and brought out the money Snape had provided him beforehand, (The slimy jerk only gave him half, saying he was too irresponsible to take care of himself and his money.) pointedly looking the man in the eyes as he placed each coin on the table with a loud click. The man’s face went red and he shakily collected the money.

As he walked out of the store, cage in hand, he tried to think of the next place to go. He looked up and down the street, his eye landing on one store in particular. The name “Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions” hung above the door, its obtrusive font and coloring grabbing the small boy’s attention easily. With a quick glance down to his newly acquired pet, Bill skipped across the street, his straight posture and quick walk splitting the crowd. Arriving at the shop, he took a moment to peer into the windows, making out three figures in the cluttered room. There were two boys, one of obvious high stationing and one who was obviously confused and overwhelmed, a muggle born like himself, perhaps?

The door opened with a pleasant jingle, and Bill found himself at the center of attention, all three heads having turned at the sound. The rich boy with almost albino hair looked him up and down before turning back to the woman, while the other dark haired boy looked relieved to have a distraction.

“Hello there, dear! Just a moment, if you will.” Bill nodded to the woman and walked further into the small establishment, his bird fluttering restlessly in its cage.

“My name’s Harry,” the dark haired one said. He was small too, not as short or skinny as Bill, but obviously underfed and scraggly.

“That’s nice, its good to know you can recall your name.” Bill said flatly. The blond boy snorted and Harry flinched, cheeks flushed bright red with embarrassment. “Aw, don’t be like that, Harry, I’m joking!” He wasn’t actually, its rather difficult keeping his sense of humor in check with the sensitive feelings humans have. Half the time he doesn’t even mean to offend people, and this time, in a completely new world with a set goal in mind, Bill knew the rewards that having friends in high places came. Which is why he swung his attention the other boy, he was still smirking in amusement to his previous remark to poor Harry. He was obviously rich, his family has power and it seems like he will one day, too. He has the aura of a politician, dark and cruel.

“I don’t need an introduction from you, who couldn’t know your family? Name’s Cipher,” He smirked confidently, playing up his image. He had no clue who this kid was or his family, but what he didn’t know would only help Bill.

The pale boy smirked, “See, Potter? Some people know the importance of the Malfoy name,” He said, voice contorted smugly. Harry bit his lip, wide green eyes flickering nervously between them. “Cipher, huh? I haven’t heard that name before. Who are your parents?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know them.” Malfoy’s face twisted, smirk turning into a sneer.

“You’re a muggle born, then?” So being a muggle born is bad then, Bill noted. That wouldn’t do.

Turning his mouth upwards in an easy, if fake, smile, Bill laughed abruptly, as if honestly surprised. “Oh! Oh no, you misunderstand. My family is from Egypt, and my parents and I actually just came back from a trip to America.”  
“Oh,” Malfoy said softly, face losing its hostility and smile returning onto his face. So quickly he could switch emotions, Bill noted amusedly. “Welcome to London, then. I look forward to dealing with you in the future.” With that, the boy took his leave, head held high and without a second glance toward the dark-haired boy standing nervously next to Bill.

While the woman set to work on his own robes, Bill looked thoughtfully at Harry. “A word of advice, Harry,” His head snapped towards Bill, eyes wide once more. “Do try to be careful with your acquaintances, who knows when you’ll need a friend in high places.”

Harry’s face darkened, “I’d rather not, if they’re all like him.” His eyes narrowed, “Or you.” He added and Bill laughed. “Oh man, tell me how that works out for you, Potty boy.” Harry Potter’s face bloomed red at the childish nickname and he opened his mouth angrily, but Bill just snickered and left to pay for robes.

Once more outside the store and nowhere in mind to go, Bill looked about for the professor. He couldn’t see his shiny black hair, so he shrugged and made his way further down the street. The stores looked interesting, and he pulled to a stop in front a bookstore. He immediately went inside, a burning desire for knowledge scratching at him behind his eyes. He has always been one for learning, collecting and gathering new information and facts, spending days surrounded by books and novels of all kinds. He was quite similar to Stanford Pines in that way, or maybe even Dipper, dumb as he may appear at certain times. Those two carried his want for discovery, the only difference is that, after millennia of existing there was not much Bill has not seen. Although, that had been on different worlds, different planes of existences, and this one still held things he could learn from.

After a brief walk around the store, he left with his pockets significantly lighter and his thin arms trembling from the weight of the tomes he carried. It was difficult to carry both a bird cage and multiple books on his own, and he stumbled a few times as he made his way down the crowded street. He had barely made it ten feet before someone barreled into him, sending the books flying and the owl screeching as its cage tumbled to the ground. Bill pulled himself up from the cobble stone, hands and knees bloody from where they scraped against the ground. He looked up, eye burning as he came face to face with his attacker.

“I am so, so sorr- oh. It’s you.” Harry Potter stood above him, hands pausing from where he went to retrieve the books he had sent flying and eyes squinting in displeasure as he took in the boy on the ground.  
Bill scrunched his nose and ground his teeth angrily, “Watch where you’re going, will you?” He muttered. Harry was about to argue, but suddenly a booming voice interrupted him.

“Oh? Who’re you then?” Bill’s eye widened, the man was huge! Standing easily at at least four feet taller than Bill himself and quadruple his weight, the giant’s impressive stature sent shivers down his spine. Bill didn’t have exactly the most imposing of human bodies, with his knobby knees and gaunt cheekbones, and had no magic right now. The emptiness in his chest made itself all the more apparent as he looked up at the beast of a man. He was obviously a friend of Potter’s, and Bill knew that if he chose to attack, Bill would be able to do nothing but run away and hope the man was slow.

“Um, Bill Cipher, Sir.” He stuttered, heart racing. He has never felt as vulnerable as he did now, and desperately wished he had stayed with Professor Snape.

The beast rubbed his beard, “Cipher, eh? What’re ye doin’ on the ground? Come on, up ye get!” A large callused hand reached toward him, and Bill flinched, scrabbling backwards as he tried to get away. He could see Harry frowning confusedly, but Bill didn’t care, didn’t care how much of a coward he might have seemed, because suddenly the entire situation he has found himself in, starting with his dramatic appearance the other night, has finally caught up to him, and he could feel his breaths getting shallower.

The beastly man hesitated before reaching for him once more, “Don’t worry, now, I’m not gunna-“

“Get your hands away from him,” A silky voice called out, and Bill felt his breath escape him in a relieved exhale. Snape made his way towards them, face twisted in anger and wand clenched tightly in his hand.

“Snape! I was just-“ The giant started, raising his hands in surrender while Harry just blinked confusedly between the men.

“I said, get back.” Snape growled, coming to stand in front of Bill. The man stepped away quickly, hands still held up uselessly.

“I was just tryin ta help the lad! He fell an-“

“Do shut up, Hagrid.” Snape bit, already turning to assess the blond child on the ground. Suddenly, Bill’s face went alight in embarrassment. Taking in how pitiful he must seem, what with his panic and general dusty appearance, he scrambled to get himself back onto his feet. His bloodied hands stung, but he grabbed the bird’s cage and tried his best to regain any respect he had hoped to have. He stood up straight and attempted to dust off his shirt.

“I’m fine, Professor Snape.” He said quietly, avoiding eye contact with the giant- Hagrid. “I just fell down and was surprised when a man I didn’t know tried to help me up,” he said, golden eye wide as he implored the teacher to believe him, his pride had already taken a hit and he certainly didn’t need the man to make the scene any bigger than it was.

Snape squinted at him, before he sighed and knocked the back of his head aggravatedly. “That’s what you get when you wander off, you insolent brat,” He snipped as Bill whined. He heard Harry laugh and pouted before he turned to Hagrid. Now that he wasn’t on the ground and panicking, the man didn’t seem all that intimidating, with his wide eyes and the worried twisting of his hands.

Even still, he was large, and keeping with his thought that friends are a good thing to have, Bill turned up the charm. Rubbing the back of his neck, Bill chuckled self-deprecatingly as he turned his wide golden eye up at the man. “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” He mumbled, scuffing his shoes and looking away in the picture of childish innocence.

“Ah, don’t worry kid,” Hagrid rushed out. He rubbed his hands before turning back to Potter. “I think it’s time we move on, eh?” Harry nodded distractedly, still looking at Bill weirdly. Quickly, Bill sent a grin towards the black-haired boy, lips spread wide and teeth glinting. Harry startled, raising his hands before noticing the books he still held in front of him. Quickly, he rushed over to Bill and shoved the books into his arms, muttering a quiet “weirdo,” under his breath.

Humming calmly, Bill continued to stare even as the two left down the opposite way.

“Why did you walk away?” Bill turned, catching how Snape’s jaw was clenched painfully, eyebrow twitching in an expressive show of irritation. Bill pouted mockingly.

“But Sir! You were just so fast, I couldn’t keep up.” He smiled, voice teetering on outright disrespect as he blinked innocently up at the professor. Snape opened his mouth, but Bill cut him off, “And anyways, I managed to get a lot done! I’ve got my owl, my robes and my books, Sir.”

Snape frowned, looking down at the books, “I see.” He huffed and turned, “Come along, we still have much to do. And do try to keep up this time.”

They continued to make their way through a number of shops, Bill getting increasingly overwhelmed by the minute. There was so much he had never expected to see, so much that he did not yet understand. It made for a confusing mix inside him, excitement for all that we will be able to discover and wariness, for all that he does not yet know or understand.

Finally, it seemed as though they had made it the last shop they needed. A wand shop, as apparently these wizards are so incapable they need twigs to channel their magic. Snape stepped inside briskly, and Bill followed suit, his neck craning to get a curious glimpse inside the store. An old man welcomed them, rushing the boy deeper inside before questioning him. (Which is your wand hand, left or right? Left, he replied.)

The man grabbed a wand and stuffed it in the boys hands. It was long and thin, and Bill held it loosely, not knowing what to expect. Nothing happened, the wand stayed flippantly dormant and his magic still ached inside him. The old man grumbled before replacing the wand with another. And so on it went, wand after wand with no reaction. With each one, the man looked more and more excited while Snape just seemed irritated, as usual.

Eventually, the man stopped. “It would seem, Mr.Cipher, that I do not have a wand for you.” He said, shrugging his shoulders and blinking excitedly.

“What do you mean, no wand?” Snape demanded from his spot in the corner. “Are you going to make him one or should we go elsewhere?”

“Well, normally I would say so, but this young man is a tad different than the usual sort I get.”

“How do you mean?” Bill asked.

“Every wizard’s magic I’ve met has had at least some reaction to a wand, even if it was a bad one,” The man said, old eyes looking down curiously into Bill’s own. “But you, well. If I didn’t know better I would think you a muggle with how nonreactive your magic seems to be.” Turning to Snape, the man continued. “It’s not that I don’t have the right wand, Sir, it’s that there is no wand for this boy. He does not seem to require one.”

Snape’s eyes blinked furiously, skipping between the impressed wandmaker and the nonplussed boy. “So, what? He does not need a wand at all? That’s impossible! Wandless magic is only used by the masters” He snapped.

“It would seem so,” The man replied thoughtfully, gazing down at Bill. “What is it you said your name was, lad?”

“Bill Cipher, Sir.”

“Cipher, huh? I’ll have to keep an ear out for you, I feel this isn’t the last time I’ll hear of you.”

The small boy hummed, blinking back towards Snape. The man was still gaping confusedly, it was rather funny. Bill choked on a laugh, now wasn’t the time to make fun of the humans. He needed to blend in, and he couldn’t do that without a wand. Thinking quickly, he turned back to the old man.

“Are you sure there is nothing you can do for me, Sir?” Raising a gray eyebrow, the man placed a hand to his chin, forehead wrinkled in thought.

“Well, as I’ve said, none of my wands are receptive to you, Mr. Cipher.”

Bill looked away, amping up his sympathetic form by forcing color to brighten his cheeks. “Its just… I don’t want to stick out. Everyone else will have a wand, right? Couldn’t I just,” He paused and looked up with a shrug, “pretend?”

Humming, the old man looked over to Snape before sighing. “I suppose I could give you a wand with no core,” He murmured. “It would be empty, though. Should another wizard try to use it, it won’t work.” He said sternly, “It won’t do you any good if they find out. Probably make your situation worse, really.”

Bill nodded enthusiastically and waited for the man to bring the stick out from the back of the shop. Snape glanced down at the boy, a frown twisting his brow.

“I never pictured you to be one who care what others think of him.”

Bill shrugged and tapped his fingers against his thighs. “I just thought that I should make a good impression.” He said. Tilting his head, he forced Snape to look at his eyepatch. “I’ve learned that its best to just fade in the crowd, let them see what they want to. If I had no wand, I would be the odd man out.” Bill huffed amusedly, “Or, in my case, the odder man out.”

All this is true, if not the way he usually liked to do things. He enjoyed being the center of attention, the burning star. He liked it when people were forced to sit back and watch him single handedly ruin everything, knowing but incapable of defense. Its just a personal preference, really, like strawberry or chocolate. However, times have changed in the past millennium. He could no longer take the stage and write the script at the same time he’s come to learn. This time, he’ll take it slow, let them feel safe.

Snape seemed to understand, as he nodded slowly. “Does this come from personal experience?” He drawled.

“I’m half blind, what do you think?”

 

With his new stick in hand, the two wizards made their way out the shop back into the busy street. The slimy jerk hadn’t agreed to take any of Bill’s purchases, leaving him tripping and stumbling behind his steady gait as he juggled the wand between his pile of books and frustrated bird.

“Where are we going now?” He asked.

“Originally, I was going to take you home,” Snape grumbled.

“But?”

“But,” He drawled out “the unexpected events at Olivander’s have inclined me to take you to meet Dumbledore instead.”

“Oh,” Bill mumbled. He glanced up at the man, “And who’s he?”

Snape sighed exasperatedly. “He is your new headmaster.” He stopped suddenly, almost making Bill walk straight into him, before flicking out his wand theatrically. He grabbed the boy’s shoulder and they were gone without a moment’s notice. The obnoxious colors of the street swirled and bubbled into a whole new scene, dull grays and navy blues shifting into focus as Snape’s magic warped them away.

The second time left him feeling just as bad as the first, if not worse. His stomach rolled unpleasantly, and he could feel the scrapes on his hands and knees begin to bleed again. His magic really did not mix well with the version that Snape seemed to use.

The bird was hooting loudly and clanging against the metal bars of its cage, it seems that Bill had dropped everything during their relocation.

“You could have warned me,” He said bitterly, dropping to the ground to pick up his things. Grabbing the bird cage, he hushed the agitated beast before turning to face the professor with a scowl. The man just stood there with an amused glint in his eyes as he watched Bill gather his belongings. Raising to his feet once more, Bill finally took the chance to look at his surroundings. They were in a village, and in the distance he could see the murky vision of an old castle peeking behind a mirage of trees.

“Where are we?” He questioned.

“Hogwarts.”


	4. Chapter 4

The trek to the castle was short but annoying. Bill’s human body did not like hills, he noted with each labored breath, not one bit. Slowly, they made their way to the castle’s entrance as the sun made its way further down the evening sky.  
Biting his lip, he looked to the cranky professor walking steadily some ways in front of him. Show off. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting me back before nightfall, Sir?” The man didn’t reply, just made his way through the giant doors and motioned for the boy to follow.

The inside of the castle was beautifully haunting. The halls were dark and quiet, each footstep an avalanche to the muted surroundings. They followed a complex path, twisting turning and stepping up stairways with a mind of their own. After twist number three and turn seven, they were greeted with an angry gargoyle. The statue was impressive, if a bit threatening for a children’s school with an angry scowl and pointed teeth.

“Lemon drop.” Snape said, his first words since they were outside. Bill cast a confused glance to the man but was cut off from saying anything when the wall behind the statue suddenly pulled away, revealing a stair case not visible before.  
Snape ushered him in, following swiftly behind as they made their way up. Anticipation twisted in Bill’s gut, who is it that he was about to meet that warranted such commotion? They lived in a castle for Pete’s sake.

The room they were greeted with was… interesting. The walls were decorated with portraits and knickknacks, the room littered with books and artifacts that looked to belong in a museum. He couldn’t help but notice the faces in the pictures seemed to be whispering about him. A phoenix sat in a cage next to a large desk covered in papers and quills.

“A phoenix,” Bill murmured, he hadn’t seen one in over a century. They were beautiful birds, and Bill appreciated their dramatic combustions. Said bird preened, glowing in the attention.

“Why yes, have you seen one before?” A new voice said from behind him. Startled, Bill turned to face the speaker. He was an old man, with odd clothing that seemed to come straight out of a children’s book. His eyes were warm and shiny, a shimmer in their depths that put Bill in unease. He’s never trusted the ones with a smile in their eye.

Instead of answering, Bill tilted his head and stuck out his hand. “Bill Cipher. You are Mr. Dumbledore, I assume?”

“Indeed,” He said pleasantly.

“Cipher?” One of the portraits squawked, “Oh my, troubled times indeed, horrible times.” Bill cast a cold glance at the old photo. The man inside gasped and ran a trembling hand through his hair, choosing to remain quiet for the time being. He knew his name. Not terribly surprising, considering the havoc he’s caused throughout the dimensions, especially this one. His triangular form and last name were sprawled throughput countless history books and legends, integrated into vast cultures across the world.

“Hm,” Dumbledore ran a hand down his, admittedly impressive, beard. “Interesting.” He whispered. Turning back to the small boy, he smiled. “Now, you are just a muggleborn, are you not? How do you know of phoenixes, Mr. Cipher?”

“This boy seems to know quite a bit about magic,” Snape muttered. “He has been practicing his magic on his own for quite a while. For some reason, we only noticed he even had any when he lost control.”

They both turned to him, and he shrugged innocently. The truth was burning on his tongue, begging to be let out. He wanted to taunt these pitiful men who value power over knowledge with the promise of suggestion, hinting towards an unknown they could only guess at. But to do so would hinder his goals, so he bit his tongue harshly, calming at the taste of coppery blood.

“Even muggles have magic tales, Mr. Dumbledore.”

“That accent, have you been to America recently, Mr. Cipher?” The old man smiled, twisting his beard and ignoring the boy’s explanation. A rude old bastard, he was. However, the question fit with the story he told the Malfoy brat, so he might as well stick to it.

“Yes, actually.” Offering nothing else, Bill turned to Snape. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, but may I ask why we’re here instead of on our way home? You know my mother will flip at you.” He said passively, stifling a laugh at the grimace on Snape’s face at the mention of his overprotective “parents”.

Rolling his eyes, the oily man crossed his arms. “I want to get you tested.” He said.

“Tested?”

Dumbledore sat behind his desk with a thoughtful glance at the small boy in front of him. “You really think that he is that naturally gifted, Severus?”

What the Hell type of name is Severus? Severus Snape, really?

“I don’t think its natural.”

Bill huffed, “Rude.”

Dumbledore chuckled amusedly. Turning to Bill, his blue eyes were aglow with an emotion that Bill knew all too well. (The look of an outsider, a watcher, the man behind the curtain setting the pieces just to watch them flounder about. This man is cruel, maybe not purposefully, but Bill knows those eyes.)

“You certainly have an interesting air about you, Mr. Cipher. I think I agree with Professor Snape, here, should you be interested.” He fiddled with his glasses, “I see a kinship in you, child. I believe that you can go far.” He smiled, “That you have already gotten very far indeed.”

Bill shivered, God this guy was creepy. He turned to the paintings, and they watched back with wide eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back nonchalantly, “I mean, I only know what I’ve been able to scour from the local library so I doubt I’d do too well.” He glanced at the men. “But if you think I should, then I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

Dumbledore hummed, before casting Snape a glance. “If we could speak in private for a moment?” Snape sneered but left obediently. Bill watched him close the door with a quiet click, foreboding building in his stomach. God, he hated playing the long game.  
“There is a meaning behind the name Cipher, Bill. Have you happened to come across it in that library of yours?” The old man whispered. A test, then. Or a warning?

“I hadn’t, no.”

Dumbledore let his gaze rest on the small boy for some moments, looking deep into his eye. Bill stood his ground, staring blankly back at him.

The headmaster looked away and turned around with a sigh. “I knew a boy, once, long time ago. He had such promise, such power that could be used for good.” He dragged a knobby hand down his face, regret twisting his lips into a deep frown. “He took that power and used it for the worse. He turned into a monster, a villain.” How sad.

“I sense a similar power inside you, Mr. Cipher. I do not want to see history repeat itself.”

“I can imagine not, Sir.” He said, eye lidded and promising. The portraits trembled, cracking nervously against the wall. Dumbledore’s brow furrowed in discomfort, his mouth open to insist, but Bill had already made his leave from the dusty room.

 

Snape was quiet on the way home, and before he knew it, Bill was standing in front of his parents. The fussed and cooed, and Bill said goodbye to the potions master. He nodded back and gave a date for the test.  
“I’ll come in a week’s time to bring you to the castle. Be ready.”

Said week was uneventful. He listened some more to the world around him, but there wasn’t much to learn from his gossipy neighbors or his boring parents.

His magic ran stronger in his veins, feeding him energy he so poorly missed. In the mirror, he could see the glint of druid gold in his amber eyes, reminiscent of the old headmaster’s shine. At night, he summoned wisps of azure fire to his fingertips, passed it effortlessly from hand to hand. Whatever had been blocking his magic is receding, slowly, but he didn’t want to push his luck.

When the test day came, he was sat on his front steps, humming obnoxiously to an old jazz song he’d come to appreciate when he’s visited New York a time ago. Snape had never said what time he would come, so after Bill had eaten his measly breakfast (he disliked eating, it doesn’t feel right after having spent an eternity feeding off nothing but spite) of half a slice of toast, he’d run outside and planted himself in front of the doorway.

His bird sat on his shoulder, burying its beak in his curly hair and chirping happily. He had thought he would dislike the creature, but it seems to have grown on him. He’s never had a companion before, other than Stanford. He decides to name it Providence, and it rarely leaves his side.

Across the street, a child falls off their bike and Bill snorts amusedly, raking his nails down his wrists. Long lines sat on his skin, red and angry. Pain still intrigues him, even after the bathroom incident, and he can’t stop himself from scratching and digging subconsciously. His guardians cast him concerned looks, but he doesn’t stop, physical forms are so interesting and frail.

The kid is crying about a scrape on his knee, their mother hovering nervously over him. Bill’s amusement grows, to where he’s laughing openly and chortling at the dark looks the woman sends him from over the kid’s head.

“Could you at least let me pretend that you do not belong in Slytherin?” The dark form of Snape popped into existence, his voice low and scratchy and resigned. “I want to enjoy my peace while it lasts.”

“What’s a Slytherin?”

Jumping to his feet, he watched as the professor’s face pinched unattractively, a sigh his only answer. Taking a moment to throw Providence back inside the house, Bill skipped down the front steps.

“Come with me and keep your mouth shut.” He grumbled, taking his wand out with a swish and holding his arm out expectantly.

Never one to disappoint, Bill grabbed the man’s arm swiftly, readying himself for the oncoming travel.

It seriously never gets any easier. Bent at the knees and huffing out nauseated breaths, Bill chuckled darkly. If Stanford could just see him now, brought down by a man with enough power to light a lightbulb and stick.

Seeing the castle in the day was no less awe inspiring as in the night, if not a tad more welcoming. Soon enough, they were walking down the halls and into a small classroom filled with pots and books and stuffy air.

“Sit here, and I’ll get the written exam for you to complete first.”

“What’s after that, then?” He questioned.

“The practical.” Twit.

The exam itself was elementary. The questions were so basic he struggled with trying to figure out if they held a hidden meaning. Did they mean to be easy, or were they playing a trick? Either way, he kept a few wrong on purpose, can’t have them suspicious now.

The hardest part was translating their simple practices to the complex and breathing theories he learned when he was once a child. The magic they were testing him on were the everyday stepping stones that all the beginning druids were taught once ago, if dulled down a considerable amount.

Scribbling down a snarky response on the parchment, Bill absentmindedly brought his hand to his mouth, gnawing on his pointer finger’s knuckle. He had no idea he was doing it at all until Snape bit out, “What the devil are you doing, foolish boy!”

Jumping, the blond boy ripped his hand away from his face and looked wide-eyed at the professor sat behind his desk. The man snarled and shoved his chair back, crossing the room with a scowl. Bending down, he snatched Bill’s hand in his own, and waved it theatrically.

Finally noticing the blood, Bill licked his lips, the sharp tang bittersweet on his tongue.

“Oh.” He said intelligently, pulling his hand away.

“Oh? What the hell were you doing, biting yourself like that? Are you a toddler?” The man snipped, nose curled.

Shrugging, the boy smiled pleasantly. “I can’t help it, it’s just so funny.” He said, mouth twisted into an ugly interpretation of innocence.

“Funny?”

“Yeah, you know. The blood and stuff. Pain.” Silence.

“I’m going to tell you once to stop. If I see you doing it again I will take action, Mr. Cipher.” He had an odd look on his face, his eyes pinched and disturbed.

“…Alright?” He laughed.

 

After the written exam, Snape guided him back outside next to a quaint little pond.

Looking the boy up and down, he muttered,” Since you apparently don’t need a wand, I do not know exactly how this test will go.” Bill tilted his head and stared, not saying anything. Snape shifted awkwardly before turning and taking a few steps away.

Brandishing his wand, he faced Bill and fell into a dueling stance.

“Your first task is a duel. The goal is to get the other outside this circle,” As he spoke, a white circle flickered into existence, reaching about ten feet in radius.

Bill grinned wide, sharp teeth and dimpled cheeks. “Ooo! A fight right off the bat! How interesting,” He giggled, taking a half step back and raising his arms defensively. His fingers curled, magic thrumming in his veins and heart beating in his ears. Adrenalin flooded his veins, he hasn’t been in a duel in ages!”

Snape acted first, and with a flick of his wand, a burst of wind sprung forwards, almost picking Bill up off his feet. He stumbled back, teeth gritting as he dug his heels in the dirt. He didn’t want to give away too many of his tricks, best to play it slow, use his head and not his fists. So to speak.

Wind blowing in his eye, Bill raised his hand and called to his magic. It hummed back, slow and groggy yet still as tantalizing as ever. Focusing on the white circle, he left Snape to continue throwing hexes and curses wildly. Gradually, he felt his magic respond and obey to his will, pulling the boundary closer.

Smiling in his victory, Bill stood straight and flourished his wrist. The ground in front of Snape cracked and crumbled as butterflies with rotten wings and birds with no feathers erupted from the earth.

Disgusted, Snape shouted and jumped back in surprise. By this point, Bill’s magic had steadily dragged the circle until it had been right behind the professor, and now he had won.

Slightly disappointed in the ease he completed his challenge, Bill frowned and looked at the man who had fallen to the dirt in his unease.

“Did you mean to go easy on me?” He drawled, arm held out for one of the unnatural birds.

All Snape could do was gawk, eyes wide as he looked dazedly between the circle, Bill, and the terrifying creatures he had created.

“What did you- Did you summon those creatures? And the circle-what did you do to it?” He stuttered, scrambling to his feet gracelessly.

Bill smirked, and wiggled his fingers in Snape’s face teasingly, ”Maaaagic!” The professor turned an odd shade of red and glowered impressively before he tugged on Bill’s sleeve.

“Come with me.”

 

The rest of the practical was boring to say the least. A few potions here, a few transfigurations there. By the end of it, Snape looked ready to pull his hair out and Bill’s magic felt like sludge, clumpy and toxic where it should be fluid and grace. There’s definitely still something wrong with his inner flame, he hasn’t felt this disconnected from his own powers in eons. Not since he was still learning about said powers.

They decide to call it a day after Bill manages to transform a button into a goose, something that Snape clearly was not prepared for. (“They have teeth?!” He screeched, fending off the angry fowl with a nearby book while Bill’s laughter rang high and obnoxious in the background.) He left Bill to sit in the cafeteria while he talked to Dumbledore, and Bill took the time to admire the ceiling, of all things. The night sky had always cooled his temper, the stars calling him back from his overwhelming need to do something.

As he relaxed, he wondered what the Pine Tree was doing, if he was trying to rebuild his great uncle, or if he had given up and fell into grief. The kid had an annoying knack of doing everything Bill didn’t want him to, so he bet that he was doing the former.

Too bad the brat doesn’t live in England, he pondered. The list of ways Bill desired to get his revenge on the stupid Pines family was practically endless.

“Ahem,” Bill looked up to see Dumbledore and Snape standing in front of him. Snape himself looked particularly unimpressed, glancing from his eye to his mouth. Snapping out of his daze, Bill tugged his knuckle out of his mouth and swallowed the blood in his mouth.

Dumbledore cast a concerned glance to Snape, but the man just shook his head and motioned for the headmaster to speak.

“Hello again, Mr. Cipher. Your testing seems to have been the right choice after all.” The old man smiled and gestured to the oily professor behind him. “Snape here says that you did unexpectedly well in all subjects. Congratulations are in order, but first I want to discuss your future in this school.”

Bill raised a brow and leaned forwards into the table he was sitting at, placing his cheek in his hand. “You gunna kick me out or something?” He jibbed, scowling. That wouldn’t do at all.

“No, no. I merely meant that your knowledge is beyond that of an average first year. It is my recommendation that you are place ahead.”

“Ahead? By how far?”

“That is where the problem lies, Mr. Cipher.” Dumbledore sighed and sat on the other end of the table. “It is unheard of for a first-year student testing out of their grade. There is simply just too much for them to learn, too much for you to understand about our world and our culture during that period for you to skip ahead. However, you already know most of the magic itself. If you were not muggleborn, you might have been pushed forward, however…”

“I’m not.” Bill continued for him.

“...Yes. So instead, I have decided to give you something else. Instead of taking all first-year classes, you will also take one third year potions class with Professor Snape here. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you will meet with him after school hours to continue your education at the level you are more comfortable with.”

Bill hummed, it sounded acceptable. At least Snape was interesting, it will be fun to get under his skin. “What a cruel world it is, making me ignorant to the ways of wizards and sticking me with Mr. Snape.” Bill chortled, lips tugging with a smile.

Dumbledore huffed an amused laugh while Snape only glared harder.

It was going to be an interesting school year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Providence is a reference for how Bill was originally based off of the Eye of Providence lol  
> uh anyways on to the good stuff!  
> (also sorry for the lack of Dipper lately, we're getting there!)


	5. Chapter 5

That night, he lays on his bed and closes his eye. This past summer was an embarrassment, a complete and utter strike against his pride. He had let his guard down, let the Pines family run around for his own amusement for far too long and it had ruined him in the end.

The boy's face of victory when he thought he had killed Bill will follow him for eons, a permanent vision of shame on his heels. 

He would not allow himself get distracted this time, he vows. Turning on his side, he draws his hand in front of him and summons a small blue flame. It flickers weakly between his thin fingers, a testament to how weak he has become. Closing his eye, he envisions the Pines family in all of their frustrating glory.

When he looks at his hand once more, four figures are glowing in front of him. They are smiling, and standing proud against the azure flame. His breath catches and his throat tightens. He could feel his pitiful human heart thumping wildly in his chest, his lungs constricting with each short breath. 

His fingers were shaking, the image in his hand flickering but no less taunting. A sudden burst of rage crawled at his throat, and he crushed the flame in his fist with a snarl of rage. Kicking back the blankets on his bed, he jumps to his feet and runs to the window, opening it swiftly. He's on the second story of the house, but he climbs out anyways and lets himself fall to the ground. He lands in a crouch, his ankles burning and legs sending numb shocks up his spine.

The alley way is dark, shadows licking at the edges of his vision as he stalks his way through the London streets. He doesn't know where he's going, but at this point it doesn't matter. He just needs a distraction from the burning anger bubbling in his stomach like acid. 

After an hour or so of walking aimlessly, the jittery frustration is still tingling on his fingertips and he has gotten impatient. He could feel his magic bursting at the seams, begging him to let go and  _break_ something. He stops in his tracks and drags a shaking hand down his face, exhaling forcefully. He didn't want to break something, not yet, it was too early. 

But... he  _needed it._

He tugged on his hair, pulling hard as he tried to get a grip on himself. It was too early! He needed to be normal. Be normal. Be normal.

Laughter broke the silence of the skinny alleyway, bouncing off the slick bricks and echoing maddeningly. Head still bent down into his hands, he slowly looked to the side. A group of four men were walking towards him, tossing jokes and taunts between themselves as they got closer.

"Hey, kid! Didn't your mama ever tell you not to go walking around alone at night?" One sneered, his friends huffing amusedly behind him. 

Bill said nothing, trying to calm his racing heart screaming,  _'Kill,_ _kil_ _l_ _, kill!'._

"Hey! You deaf or something, bud?" He could feel them getting closer, but his feet stayed rooted to the dirty cement. He should leave, he told himself desperately. It's too early, you damn fool.

When Robert left the house that night with his closest friends, he hadn't thought something like this would happen. They were walking through the alleys, taking a short cut to the movie theater, when they saw a small boy stagger in, shaking his head wildly and muttering to himself.

"What the hell?" Jim mutters, looking anxiously at his friends. They didn’t want any trouble, and this kid was obviously on something.

Robert shrugs, taking a step back before he notices that the boy is bleeding, and one of his ankles is twisted gruesomely.

"Oh shit, look at him! He needs a hospital or something," He says, tugging on Dave's sleeve. The bigger man nods, and calls out to the boy.

"Hey, kid!  Didn't your mama ever tell you not to go walking around alone at night?" He doesn't respond, just looks up creepily through his fingers, hair hiding half his face. 

Jim shifts, looking around restlessly. He whispers, "I think we should go, man. This kid is giving me the creeps.."

But Dave doesn't stop, walking closer, he calls out, "Hey! You deaf or something, bud?" He goes to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, sure to ask if he needed a hospital, but before he could the kid snapped out of his daze.

Slapping Dave's hand out of the way, the kid jumps backwards by at least three feet. 

"Oh, shit!" Dave yells, surprised.

"Oh, God, look at his face!" Alex pipes up from the back. Sure enough, when Robert takes a wary glance, he sees that the boy is missing an eye. Like, literally, where there should have been an eye was just an open wound, dark and deep. 

The four of them all take a few steps back, wondering if it was wise to approach the kid. They stop in shock when they hear him start to laugh. It was high pitched and eerie, like something out of a horror movie. 

"And I was trying so hard to be good...." He chokes, and raises a single hand. Confused, Dave looks back at them, but half way through, his whole body stops, like someone pressed pause on a video game. 

The boy clenched his fist, and Dave's head twisted a full 360, neck snapping audibly in the quiet alley way.

"Oh shit! What the fuck, man!?" The remaining three were frozen to the spot, staring dazedly at where Dave's body had fallen. Biting his tongue, Robert gathers himself enough to turn and try to run, only to stop and stare as a wall of thorns bursts from the cement and blocks the only way out. 

With a whimper, he slowly turns to look at the boy. He's still standing there, arm outstretched and face distorted with a cruel grin.

"I didn't want to do this, you know." He says, eyebrows curled into a sympathetic expression, broken by the smile still tugging at his lips. Looking down at the broken body in front of him, he says, "But you were so tempting..."

He cocks his head to the side, and Dave's body splits open grotesquely with a wet squelch. He hears Jim gag in front of him, but he can't take his eyes off of his friend's corpse. Bones twist out of his rib cage, dead flowers stemming up from the marrow. Blood seeps from the wound, a steady flow of red. Dave's blank face had turned on its own, dead eyes staring into Robert's own. 

Swallowing his sobs, he clenches his fists. Taking one last glance at his friends, Robert sprints past and towards the opposite side of the alley, aiming towards the last exit.

But before he could make it, he feels a tug on his ankle, and he falls to the ground with a devastated yelp. Turning, he sees that nothing but air has a hold on him, but it doesn't matter, because he's getting dragged back down the alley.

His friends are screaming, and he's screaming, and the force is dragging him toward the sewer gate faster and faster.

The last thing he sees is the small boy's eye, glowing gold and mad in the dark.

When Bill walks down the steps the next morning, making sure not to give away his injured foot, his parents are gathered around the tv. 

With his appearance, they turn and his other motions him over.

"Look at how terrible this is, Bill! Those poor boys... Who or what could do such a thing?" His mother coos, rubbing her chin in thought.

On the screen is a news report of the mysterious deaths of two men, and the sudden disappearance of their two friends. The first man, David Turner, had his neck broken before getting gutted and planted with dead flowers while his friend, Robert Noah, was pulled through the sewer gates with such force that it split him into slices. The other two men left nothing behind but two mysterious statues that held uncanny resemblance to them both at the scene of the crime.

"How... weird," Bill murmurs, his magic thrumming satisfied in his veins.

Making sure to keep his anger in check over the course of the next few weeks, there were no other... incidents that came to light. The police still had no leads and chalked it up to a random act of violence. It was reassuring to see that humans were as incompetent as ever.

The first few days after the incident were a relief. His magic, although drained, settled with a pleasant hum, and his skin no longer itched with the need to do something. Such impulses have always lingered in the back of his mind, for as long as he could remember. They were the voices that compelled him to destroy, to create, to just... change things. It was tiring sometimes, being such an effective agent of chaos.

As the summer draws to a close, he can feel his powers regenerating. Its slow, like pouring molasses, but the feeling leaves him tingling and energized. There's something off with it, it's too slow, and he doesn't think that he will be regaining his full potential, but it’s a start.

His false parents watch him with concerned gazes, faces drawn and thin. They ask him repeatedly if he was sure, if he was  _certain,_ that the school was what he wanted. Each time he smiled and nodded, easing their nerves with practiced ease. 

Providence has taken to following him everywhere, watching him with acidic yellow eyes. Something about the bird endears Bill, and he has come to find himself smiling at the creature when their gazes meet. It has an intelligence that has Bill curious, a shine to that animalistic gaze that whispered secrets. 

Two nights before he was to be sent away to school, Bill climbed through the window and onto the tall apartment building's rooftop. The London night sky was as dreary as it is during the day, but the lights flickering on the streets made up for the blankness overhead. Providence sat quietly on the edge, peering out into the distance.

Bill took a moment to gather himself before drawing a deep breath. Closing his eye, he dreamed.

In his thoughts, the sky was no longer dark. The image he created was one he was quite familiar to, an echo of the backdrop to the distant second dimension he had broken free of.  The city had taken the skies of the Dreamscape, his home. Blues and greens smudged into reds and violets, bright white specks blinking far and wide. The atmosphere was dripping with color, radiating a hazy glow on the earth below. 

When he finally opened his eye once more, the vision was that no longer. Around him, he had transformed the dull reality into the ambient world he had once lived. Below him, people were running out to the streets, pointing and staring in awe at the drastic change to their skies. 

The trick he pulled was not a complicated one, but it did require a great deal of power reserves. Far more than he should have used at this point in time, but the flood of satisfaction he felt made the exhaustion worth it, to have such a simple thing as the stars he once loved overhead once more.

He sat on the roof until light began to bleed onto the cityscape, knees drawn up and chin resting on his arms. He sat there and plotted the future he would guide the wizarding world through. 

By the time he finally pulled himself to his feet, dawn was breaking and his legs were numb. He made his way downstairs and joined his parents for breakfast, mind full and eager for the days ahead. In the living room, the tv buzzed with the news castors' theories on the vibrant smears of violet and crimson hues hovering in the previous night's sky. Listening half-heartedly, a sense of smug satisfaction ran down his spine, tingled his toes.

He did not need to use his magic last night, there was no burning in his mind's eye, no whispers in his ear. He just wanted to. So, he did.

The day passed uneventfully, his parents making small conversation about the odd state of the sky and hemming over his packed luggage. 

"There won't be much time in the morning, dear. Are you sure you've got everything?" 

"Yes, mother."

"Oh! But did you remember to-"

" _Yes, mother._ "

When night time finally arrived, he lied awake in his bed, eye heavy but awake. While dreams and aspects of the mind came to him like an old friend, sleep had never been an easy thing for him, not even...

Not ever.

Rolling to his side, he fought to get the memories out of his head. Squeezing his eye shut, he forced himself to sleep, magic collecting heavily behind his eyelid until he could hold it back no longer and fell to the dark.

When he was first growing into his powers, Bill had used the mindscape as an escape. Traveling from one person's dreams to the next, never stopping to look behind him for his own. The second he discovered that he could control his mind's creations, he used it to wrap up all his haunting memories and nightmares with a sweet little bow and toss them to the trash.

When he woke up from the nothing that hot august night, the nightmares came back. In the absence of his magic, they had squirmed free of their bonds, crawled their way to the background of his mind. Waiting for him to fall asleep so they could feed and fester and grow. 

When he closed his eye that last summer night, he opened his mind to the monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally dont even know im sorry lmao


End file.
